


Ribbon in the Sky

by RoAnshi



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoAnshi/pseuds/RoAnshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki thinks back on a time before mischief turned to madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ribbon in the Sky

There is still one place on Asgard that Loki remembers as his own.

As youths on the cusp of manhood—a half-millennium ago as time unspools on Asgard, but in Loki’s mind, not seeming nearly that long—he and Thor would sometimes race each other to that broad meadow, daring to escape Odin and Frigga and their _rules_ —

_\--“You hear me, All-Father? Today we will not be bound by you!”, and Thor’s jolly voice still rings in his mind, but Loki frowns to recall how easily he planted the defiant words in his brother’s mouth—_

\-- to adventure on their own. Manfully-emptied flasks of mead (ratio one swallow to five, to maintain clear-headed advantage) fueling youthful bravado, they sparred muscle against magic, time and again: thunder and lightning cracking the sky, dispelled by a laugh and a zephyr breeze; swords against knives, strength versus stealth. Too much laughter, too many bruises, too much camaraderie and… _fraternity_ to hold in his heart, until it was fair to bursting with love and pride for his brother, and Thor’s for him, and at nightfall how slowly they would walk home, talking of future plans, one of needs being on the throne while the other would serve as his trusted right hand, always.

And other times, when he found something else burning within him, Loki would bring his lovers to the meadow, cause the trees circling it to blossom in white and lilac and blush even in the depth of winter, so that petals fell upon them like gentle snow. His silver tongue need not speak a word, need only trail along a temple, flick along the soft fine curve of an ear, and each body would yield beneath his until they both knew the sharpest of pleasures, and were spent.

But the most treasured was to be there alone, with his tricks, with his thoughts, with no one to laugh at him--

_\--before mischief began to yield to madness—_

\--and at the end of the day, to simply lie back on the soft supple grass and stare at the blue, blue sky, as it faded at sunset, cirrus clouds in pink and silver streaks from horizon to horizon. Or, rare as a comet streaking the sky, to marvel at the shimmering rainbow light of the Bifrost, opening the pathway to another realm.

In the dark, unfeeling prison on Asgard, as Loki awaits trial for all the sins he has committed, these are the memories that sustain him.


End file.
